Twilight
by DazzledShamrock
Summary: Bella finds a book that depicts her life. Just what the hell is going on and what is she going to do about it?
1. Represses

Chapter 1: Repress

...

All things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.

-Elias Canetti, _Die Provinz der Menschen_

...

I lay on my bed, silently fuming at Edward. Despite how seriously I wanted to continue to be affronted by him, my temper-tantrum lasted only minutes; I could never stay mad at the stupid vampire. With a sigh, I rolled over onto my stomach, gazing at him reproachfully. His amber eyes gazed back at me, almost tauntingly.

"Are you ready to speak to me yet?"

I chose to ignore him. While I stared at his profile- his lean figure sprawled across my swivel chair in position that would be awkward for any human, but somehow still managing to look graceful- my gaze traveled down to the book that lay prisoner in his grip of steel. Noticing my stare, he moved the book behind his back, in an attempt at humor.

I wasn't laughing.

"Why would you steal that from me, Edward?" I said in a small voice, hoping that he would feel pity.

Edward's lips turned up at one corner. "Not stealing," he reasoned, "I'm liberating it. You've worn this book out; it's had a good, long life. Now I'm going to get you a new copy. You'll get it tomorrow."

I pulled myself up into Indian position, narrowing my eyes. "Why can't I get it today?"

I'm sure he could get to and back from the bookstore fairly quickly. Edward moved over to the bed, slyly wrapping an algid arm around my waist.

"You should find something else to do." He pulled me into his lap and placed his frigid cheek against my not-so-frigid cheek. If he was going to steal _Wuthering Heights_ and leave me completely without my favorite classic novel, he had better have a week-end back-up plan.

"Distract me."

"With pleasure."

After Edward left, (he needed to change clothes- what would the _neighbors_ think?) I was bored. Of course I had other books to read, but I wanted _Wuthering Heights_ and reading anything else felt like losing. I lay on my bed, my head hanging over the edge. While I observed the wooden floorboards, I caught sight of a black book peeking from under the edge of my bed. I continued counting wood grains.

Five hundred and seventy-three wood grains later, the book caught my attention again. It seemed to have moved further from under the bed, as if it were trying to gain my notice. Thinking that this was awfully strange, I pulled the volume from its hiding place and sat upright on my bed.

I glanced at the spine before looking at the cover but had to take a second look: there was no title. The front of the book was just as blank as the spine; the entire cover of the book was an abysmal black. I frowned as I turned to the first page. It was a grey scene depicting a forest, and at the top-middle of the page, the title sat in lowercase lettering.

So the title of the book was _Twilight_? I didn't recall ever reading _Twilight_. I don't ever recall _buying _Twilight. And who is Stephenie Meyer? I had never heard of that author either.

I continued to turn pages, stopping only to read the dedications and quotes, barely glancing over the table of contents.

"_I'D NEVER GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT TO HOW I WOULD_ _die- though I'd had reason enough in the last few months- but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this._

_I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me._

_Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. that ought to count for something._

_I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I-"_

Forks? Someone decided to write a book about Forks? Not exactly _about_ Forks; but this author decided that Forks was interesting enough to have as a setting for her book? I'm sure some individual in this town would have noticed if there was a book about Forks.

_" . . . I wouldn't be facing death right now. But terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, its not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end._

_The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me."_

I finished the preface with hesitancy. This book gave me a strange feeling- a slightly uncomfortable chill. I turned the page.

_"MY MOTHER DROVE ME TO THE AIRPORT WITH THE windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt- sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka."_

Phoenix? My favorite shirt was also sleeveless and decorated with eyelet lace. . . . And I vaguely remembered wearing it when my own mother drove me to the airport. The airport in Phoenix. This book was strangely similar to my own life. I continued to read.

_" . . . It was from this town and it's gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead._

_It was to Forks that I now exiled myself. I detested Forks._

_"Bella," my mom said to me- the last of a thousand times- before I got on the plane, "You don't have to do this.""_

I hastily shut the book and shoved it away from me. It fell to the floor with a dull thud as I scrambled up to my headboard, drawing my legs up to my chest, hugging them there.

Was this some kind of joke?

My thoughts immediately jumped to Edward; who else would feel the need to delve so far into my past to attain my mother's exact words and my exact thoughts? But, still, he claimed that he couldn't read my mind and I was a mental mute. It couldn't possibly be his responsibility. He had no motive.

After determining Edward's innocence, I moved on, speculating who else would know these things about me. My brain complained as it struggled to come up with possible solutions to the mind-boggling problem. Really, who else _could_ know these things?

Eventually I calmed down. I crawled down my bed and bent to retrieve the discarded novel. My floor was barren. I shifted off of my bed to search more thoroughly. I kneeled and peeked under the bed: Nothing but nothing. Sulkily, I shrugged. I went downstairs to prepare dinner for Charlie, never quite dislodging that feeling of discomfort.

Two weeks later, I had all but forgotten that book. A book that narrated my life had dematerialized; how would I explain that? Dismissing it as my imagination, I continued on with life, never telling Edward- or anyone else for that matter- of the occurrence.

...

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Only the plot and any additional characters belong to myself.

A/N: This was a sudden inspiration.

This _could_ be a one-shot. I've already got most of the story mapped out in my head, so if I get a good response I'll keep this going. I need to know how I'm doing, so review please.

I don't have a Beta yet, but I want one.

I used a Jacob reference! If you can find it, I'll give you a box of Pocky! Hint: it's so obvious, it's ridiculous.

Peace!


	2. Realize

Chapter 2: Realize

...

"Some books are undeservedly forgotten; none are undeservedly remembered."

-Wystan Hugh Auden

...

Only days after my birthday, he left me. He told me he was leaving, then it was if he had ceased to exist. I was abandoned by the one I gave my heart to.

Only then- during the latter of one of my many small-scaled mental break-downs- did I remember the book. I wondered if this book foretold what had occurred. I speculated that I could have seen this outcome, dodged the bullet, taken a different approach. I became possessed with the enticing idea. Every moment that wasn't spent cooking, working, or studying was instead set on finding that book.

I was dominated by this need for knowledge for all of three days. After thirty-six hours I fell back into the trance that had left me void of all emotions, remembering that it was my imagination. I had imagined that book when _he_ had stolen my other beloved book.

That beloved book incidentally happened to be resting on the floor when I came in one Wednesday afternoon. I had finished all of my work earlier than usual, something that I purposely never did. The extra time left my mind to wander; I didn't want or _need_ any unwanted ideas drifting through my buzzing head. I reached for the book, not recognizing it at first, wondering how it had been moved and assuming that Charlie had come in looking for something and dropped it.

The cover had changed. My green, leather-bound, hard-back copy of _Wuthering Heights_ had been replaced with another book. With a shock, I realized that this was the book I had been searching for.

Had I not been looking hard enough? My hours of rummaging through drawers, scouring the musty corners of the hall closet, turning over tables to search the bottoms had been for nothing. It seemed as if this book would only appear if it willed itself to. I accepted this without question, however grudgingly.

After all, I had lived through vampires. I could handle a little bit more supernatural. I understood on some primitive level how these things worked.

I locked my door; I wouldn't be able to handle the added stress of Charlie knowing bout the existence of this book. I moved back across the room to my bed. I sat, holding the book, preparing myself for the surge of emotions I was sure to find hidden in this book, waiting for its chance to attack me, and feed off my misery. I knew that this wasn't the most intelligent of ideas, reading this novel that was sure to kill me, but I was driven by the thought of knowing what I could have known.

I opened the book with feverish anticipation, re-reading the preface and flying through the pages of my past.

_"Tell Charlie I said hi."_

_"I will."_

_"I'll see you soon" she insisted. " You can come home whenever you want."_

_"I found a good car for you, really cheap."_

_"What kind of car?"_

_"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."_

_"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type._

_"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me._

_"Where's your next class?"_

_"Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building 6."_

_There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes._

_"I'm heading toward building four, I could show you the way …." Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added._

I smiled at some of my more humorous thoughts. I laughed, in fact, something that I hadn't done in what felt like eons. I amused myself while reading by attempting to recall those exact moments. The book portrayed them with perfect clarity, while my memory failed to picture the description without help.

I was not laughing when I got to one of the rising actions of my story.

_"I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful- maybe the perfect blonde girl, or the bronze-haired boy._

_"Who are _they_?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten._

_As she looked up to see who I meant- though already knowing, probably, from my tone- suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine."_

My breath caught in my throat, bitter tears stinging my eyes. The feeling of disappointment washed over me. Here I was reading a biography of my life at Forks- written my some author who had no regard for personal space- a life that included Edward. But I wasn't good enough to satisfy him, and he wasn't with me anymore. After I finished this book, I would be consumed with the crippling pain that came with the memories, I was sure of it. I not only deserved it, but I _needed_ it. After days of blank numbness, the pain was welcomed; it was what proved to me that I was alive and not simply an empty shell like I'm sure so many people thought me to be.

For the next several days, I read the novel at leisure after Charlie had gone to bed. Though tired and somewhat disoriented, I was always eager to get my substituted fix. I often closed the book to doze lightly, fully intending on reading more in a moment, only to awaken and find that it had disappeared. It seemed that the book was smarter than your typical five hundred-paged novel; Forcing me to sleep, somehow knowing that by staying up late to read, I was hindering how I acted in what little life I had outside of my room. How strange that a book was acting as a parent should.

_"You're not even close" he teased._

_"No spiders?"_

_"Nope."_

_"And no radioactivity?"_

_"None."_

_"Dang," I sighed._

_"Kryptonite doesn't bother me either."_

_"Bella?"_

_"What? Are you speaking to me again?"_

_His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted. _

_"What do you want, Edward?"_

_"I'm sorry. I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."_

_"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?"_

_"You are so _pushy_!" I grumbled._

_"It's not _that_ slow."_

_"Have you tried to go over sixty?"_

_"No," I admitted."_

_"Good. Don't." He grinned._

_I was being herded._

_"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get for you to drink.?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him._

_He looked at me._

_"I'll have a coke." It sounded like a question._

_"Two cokes," he said._

_"Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk," he quoted with a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest._

_"Drunk?" I objected._

_"You're intoxicated by my very presence."_

_"I can't argue with that._

_"I love you," I whispered._

_You are my life now, " he answered simply._

_"You can laugh. It _is_ sort of ironic."_

_"You seem . . . well informed about the Cullens. More informed then I expected."_

_I stared him down. "Maybe even better informed that you are."_

_He pursed his lips as he considered that. "Maybe," he allowed, but his eyes were shrewd. "Is Charlie as well informed?"_

_He had found the weak link in my armor._

_"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I hedged._

_"It's not my business," he said. "But it may be Charlie's."_

_"Though it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it's Charlie's business, right?"_

_"You'll take care of my girl, right?"_

_I groaned, but they ignored me_

_"She'll be safe with me, I promise, sir."_

_"You can't bring him down. I've never seen anything like him in my three hundred years. He's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined his coven."_

His_ coven, I thought, of course._

_"I miss you," I whispered._

_"I know, Bella. Believe me, I know. It's like you've taken half my self away with you."_

_"Come and get it then," I challenged._

_"Soon, as soon as I possibly can. I _will_ make you safe first." His voice was hard._

_"I love you," I reminded him._

_"Could you believe that, despite everything I've put you through, I love you too?"_

_"Yes, I can, actually."_

_"I'll come for you soon."_

_"I'll be waiting._

_"The phone goes there." I whispered, pointing._

_Two pairs of eternal eyes stared at me._

_"That's my mother's house."_

_"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward? … I'm sorry, but I don't think he'll be able to resist hunting after me after he watches this. And I wouldn't want him to miss anything. It was all for him, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably with the wrong crowd, I might add."_

_He stepped toward me, smiling. "Before we begin . . ."_

_"I would stay in Forks, Bella. Or somewhere like it. Someplace I couldn't hurt you anymore."_

_"Edward?" I struggled to pronounce his name clearly._

_"Yes?"_

_"I'm betting on Alice."_

_"This looks like a horror movie waiting to happen," I snickered._

_"Well," he muttered. "There are _more_ than enough vampires present._

_"Do you want me to bolt the doors so you can massacre the unsuspecting townsfolk? I whispered conspiratorially._

_"And where do you fit into that scheme?" He glared._

_"Oh, I'm with the vampires, of course."_

_"I'm not worth it," he said sadly._

_"Do you remember when you told me that I didn't see myself very clearly? You obviously have that same blindness."_

_"Yes, it is enough," he answered, smiling. "Enough for forever."_

_And he leaned down to press his cold lips once more to my throat._

When I finished the book I was in pieces.

...

Disclaimer: I know not what color boxers (or briefs, but I see Edward as the boxers kind of man) Edward was wearing on his first day of school. Only the true Stephenie Meyer knows such glorious facts of life.

Dedication: The Dow is up 259 points! Yay our topsy-turvy American economy!

Author's Note: This is the last chapter with the official "Twilight" text. I'll be moving the story on.

I'm not very good with depressing thoughts. I know what they feel like but I can't express that in worded form. I should be able to, but I can't, so I simply don't. You'll notice that I cut this chapter short. That's because you all know what you would be like if you read such a wonderful story (Which you have. C'mon, it's _Twilight_) about your love life when it was so terrible.

And some of these quotes I edited. I broke it down so I wouldn't have as much to write.

No one got my Jacob simile, but until someone does, I'll keep it a secret. I know _someone_ likes Pocky.

But if anyone can tell me what's happening in the next chapter- or even get close to it- I'll give you _Strawberry_ Pocky! Hint: It's in chronological order.

I'll try to update as soon as possible. Read and review please.

Peace!


	3. New Revalations

Chapter 3: New Revelations

...

"You are the same today that you are going to be in five years from now except for two things: the people with whom you associate and the books you read."

-Charles Jones

...

The next few weeks were better and worse. My episodes during the nights were cut down dramatically. I noticed that I was less tired, my nightmares were few and far between. I felt better in the mornings. I could wake up and not feel the sting in my chest.

Then I started seeing the book again.

Although, I had finished the novel, it continued to appear to me. Every time the novel materialized from its camouflage, that crippling pain appeared and reminded of what I once had; what I so desperately _wanted_. I wanted _him_; I _needed_ him. This book taunted and teased me.

Then one day I gave up and decided that the book obviously required something of me. After my chores were completed, I walked to my room, barely noticing the audible _click_ my lock gave as it performed its simple task. I sat at my desk and opened the drawer where the book normally sat during the days I read it on a regular basis.

"Alright, Book. You've been bothering me all month. Now, what do you want?" I held the thick book in my hands, pausing and feeling silly for waiting for a book to speak to me. Talking to inanimate objects: never a good sign of a stable mentality. But since when did I care? If I was going crazy, I might as well experience the symptoms of insanity thoroughly.

"Show me something," I instructed the binding. When it did nothing, I sighed at it's lack of response. "Okay then. I guess we'll just put you back since you obviously have nothing to show me."

I put the book away, closing the drawer and moving up to unlock the door. When I turned, however, the book was lying open on my perfectly-made comforter. With a smug smile, (I had outwitted a magical book. Who wouldn't feel proud?) I sat and carefully lifted the fragile novel.

The book was open to a page I had not seen before. Had I not seen it before or had it never been there at all? _New Moon_? A _sequel_?

What could this be about? I hadn't done anything since he left me. This book couldn't possibly be about my nightmares or what if-? What if it was about me finding the book? What a paradox.

But what if it told the future? Would I be able to handle it like I did with _Twilight_? Could I take the reminders and what could be? There was only one way to find out and I was desperate more proof that my vampires was real.

I read through the first chapter, tearing up when I realized that this was when my run-in with Jasper happened and just before _he_ decided that he no longer wanted me. I had to pause and think for a moment. Could I read this book and still keep my promise? Could I _not_ be so overcome with grief that I didn't want to deal with the pain anymore? Could I live for him- or better yet: Would it even be worth it?

I turned to the next chapter, frowning when I noticed that the page was blank. I flipped back to the beginning of the chapter and skimmed the page, then turned to the page before it.

_Here's a sneak-peak at_

_New Moon,_

_the irresistible sequel to _Twilight

"There's a sequel? Is that what you were trying to show me?"

The book was unresponsive. "Why can't you just appear as the next book in the set?"

The book ignored my reasoning. "Alright, lazy. If you say so."

I went to my closet to find something nice to wear. I honestly didn't care what I wore out to town, but I was vaguely aware that my gym shorts and MCR ringlet were okay for a day inside a house with it's thermostat set at a toasty 79, but not quite suitable for Forks' weather. I pulled a hoodie over my head and threw on some jeans and shoes, grabbing my car keys on my way out of the door.

I drove to Fork's local bookstore- A book with magical properties should be able to pull some tricks to end up in this particular store. And after all, _Twilight_ had to have come from _somewhere_- and walked into the store feeling awkward. I browsed around briefly, wondering what section my book would be found in.

New releases? Maybe. Horror? No. Drama? Possibly. Romance? Most definitely.

I strolled over through the isle, searching for the book. I couldn't find it. I searched the entire shelf, then I moved on to the Drama section. I gave up after fifteen minutes, and then, quite conveniently, a nearby employee asked me if I needed any help.

He was good-looking. I looked him over but found qualities I shouldn't have: His hair was only two shades darker than _his_, this male had a tan; I liked pale men, his eyes were green, so were _his_, his face had the same angular bone-structure that _his_ face had.

I couldn't stop thinking about _him_. _Edward._

"Ah, um … I'm looking for a book." _Of course you are, Bella_, I chastised myself. _You're in a bookstore_. I looked down in embarrassment, my cheeks flushing.

The stranger employee laughed. "Well, most of our customers are. Does this book have a name?"

I checked my memory and read it out to him, "New Moon."

His eyes rolled up and to the right; he was thinking. It was almost a cute quirk.

" . . . I don't know," he said with a slight crease between his eyebrows. "Let's go check." He jerked his head, signaling me to follow him. I complied. We walked to the Customer Service desk. Why I hadn't thought to check there in the first place was beyond me.

"Christina." The girl behind the counter raised her head from her book.

"What?" She asked. She looked irritated.

"Can you check to see if we have the book _New Moon_ in stock?"

"Mmhmm." She typed a staccato beat onto the keypad. She waited a moment, staring at the screen before answering the male, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Thanks Christie," the guy said with a hint of sarcasm.

"You're welcome, Sebastian." I couldn't tell if she was ignoring his tone, mocking him, or if she was honestly that dense.

He turned to look at me apologetically, leaning on his arm supported by the counter that the book-girl sat behind. "Sorry. We don't have it, but we can order it, I'm sure."

"That's okay. I'll, uh, check somewhere else. Thanks." I sighed and turned to the exit.

On my way out, what else did I see but a book covered with a white and red-stained ruffled tulip and the white Moon Literacy font spelling out "New Moon"? I rushed over to the stack and grabbed the first one that I saw, scanning the first chapter to check that it was the right one. I ran back to the Customer Service desk.

"I thought you didn't have this book," I demanded.

Christina looked at me like I was crazy. "That's a book on Russian folklore. Half of it is in Russian."

I looked at the title. It clearly read: _New Moon_. What was wrong with her?

And then it struck me. I understood that it was the book's camouflage. It looked like this to everyone except me (or at least it looks like this to Christine).

Cool.

For curiosity's sake, I asked her what the title was. She huffed at me, but answered in her best (which was rather bad) Russian accent. "Hobo . . .jiihun . . . eh?"

I paid for the book and left the store. I pulled up into the yard and stomped up the stairs, throwing myself onto my bed and immersing myself in my life_._

I was so enraptured that I didn't notice when the hours passed and Charlie got home. I was really out of it; I remained unaware as he ascended the stairs and entered through my still-opened door.

"Bella?" he asked softly.

I jumped and slammed the book closed, completely startled. "Yeah, Dad?" my voice was low and croaky.

"I just wanted to know if you were going to make dinner tonight." Crap. I had neglected my tasks. And it was all because of this stupid book.

"Sorry, I forgot. I can fix something now." I stood and made to go to the door.

"No, no, no! I can order take-out." He smiled a goofy, hesitant smile, "Besides, I haven't had a good Lo Mein in a while," he said, referring to his favorite take-out meal.

I didn't smile with him. All his eating habits needed to be corrected or else he was going to clog his arteries and have high cholesterol and then have heart-attack and die. I can't leave Forks.

His smile faded. He looked behind me to the book I was reading. "_Wuthering Heights_?" he guessed.

"No. Hyobojiiunaeh."

Charlie looked momentarily nonplussed. He squinted at the title. "Is that in Indonesian?"

"Russian."

"Since when do you read Russian?"

"Not _all_ of it's in Russian? Why do you care?" I skillfully avoided his inquiry.

"Guess I was just curious. You seem a bit off today." Noticing my expression, he corrected himself. "I mean, in a good way. You seem different in a good way."

"Okay."

"Okay."

_Let's see how awkward we can make this, why don't we?_ I thought to myself.

"So . . . " I said distantly. "How's life been treating you?" Charlie had always had trouble answering vague questions.

"Good, I guess." He pulled an excuse. "I'm going on down to watch the game. I'll order some food. You want your usual?"

I nodded and waited for Charlie to leave. After I heard his footsteps fade into the kitchen, I softly closed my door and locked it. Slowly, I drifted over to my bed and was overcome, once more, by the beautiful writing and the painful memories.

...

Disclaimer: Я не являюсь владельцем сумерки. Но если бы я сделал, я бы свою очередь, все мои дополнительные идеи в фан-фантастика в любом случае!

In case you _don't_ speak Russian, I just said: I do not own Twilight. But if I did, I would turn all of my extra ideas into fan-fiction anyway!

Dedication: This is to this really cute ant I found on my carpet one time (Who I named Antonio). I secretly adore him but don't tell him because he says that he wants to be "just friends".

Author's Note: I was just reading this really great Twilight fanfic called "Learning to Fall" and I saw that the author was hung-over while she was writing, so I felt crappy for sitting at a computer- COMPLETELY SUBSTANCE FREE- and not doing anything at all.

If anyone cares, the name of the Russian folklore book Bella was reading was _Новолуние_. "New Moon" in Russian. It's their history on their version of vampires. ^^ I made it up, but it would be _awesome_ if it really existed.

No Jake simile was discovered. I got a reviewer who guessed what would happen unintentionally. ^^

Next box of Pocky: Tell me where I got the employee's name. Hint: "Under the Sea".

Read and review please.


	4. What the hell

Chapter 4: What the Hell

...

In the strange heat, all litigation brings to bear on things, the very process of litigation fosters the most profound misunderstandings in the world.

-Renata Adler...

As I neared the point in _New Moon_ where the pages were blank- save the names of the months- I was shocked to find that there was still a long way to go before I finished the book.

I was not obtuse; I understood exactly where I was in coordination with this book, but if it started re-telling how I found this book and began reading it, I would never touch this book again. I would burn it, letting the pages burn to a blackened crisp or drop it in a paper-shredder and watch the novel be converted into confetti. There was only so much super-natural I could take.

And much to my surprise, the book did not tell of its discovery. Instead, the book went on to tell things I had not heard of, things I had yet to experience. The names and faces were all perfectly described, the places almost familiar, but I couldn't bring myself to believe them.

Sure; _Twilight_ was clearly telling my life. I knew that. But my life couldn't possibly be exciting enough to make a sequel to. The more I thought about this whole situation, the less it made any sense. Who the hell is Stephenie Meyer? And how on Earth did she know so much about me? Where did the book come from?

Things I knew to be myths seemed to be coming to fruition. Vampires, oddly enough, I could understand. There have been so many stories about them; that they had to come from somewhere. But something like this? A book all about _me_? I had no definite, scientific- or even logical- answers.

So I created my own fantasy world. I took what little I knew about the book and pieced it together into this haphazard mess of a situation.

Stephenie Meyer- the authoress who must have astounding spying abilities- decided to find out everything possible to uncover about me. Plausible. She had found out about vampires. Obviously. She had decided that the world should know about this, even at the risk of her own life. It's all guess-work at this point. And so she published these books, adding in a new story where she had run out of information. Then a ransom was put on her head, or rather, her blood. A vampire mafia attacked her. She was killed and now her ghostly soul (Because, really: If vampires exist, don't try to tell me that ghosts don't.) was here, trying to tell me something.

Of course, this only made sense in my head. When I tried to use reason, I came up short. There is a book series that tells my life, and then some? Even _vampires_ didn't make sense, and I _knew_ that they were real. So I kept this delusion in my head, letting the story wash over me, forcing myself to believe it.

I continued to read this book, taking in all of it's knowledge. Even the parts about Jacob.

The tiny little Quileute?

I could believe that we would become friends.

That he's a werewolf?

Not so believable.

Just the thought of me on a motorcycle was freighting. I read through the book with disbelief. When I finished the book, the sky was a shimmering grey, as if the sun was trying to break through, but just barely remaining covered.

That night I had the first nightmare I had had of _him _in weeks. I woke up in a daze and went downstairs to fix a bit of cereal. I didn't eat it because at that moment I was captivated by the bowl. It was a peculiar piece of pottery: It's surface was hand-painted with a thick vine that was covered with blossoming violets. It was a very beautiful bowl, with its intricate designs and seashell appearance. I was honestly intrigued; it was as if I were on LSD. This bowl was amazing; I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

So amazed was I, that I didn't notice Charlie talking to me. My attention was directed towards my father only when his fist came down on the table.

"That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

"I _am_ home," I mumbled, confused.

"I'm sending you to Renee, to Jacksonville."

I was going to stay with Renee? What about my book? Would it be able to follow me, or was there some connection with it and this place? I was almost sure that if I left, I would never see this book again. This novel was my grip on what I believed to be reality. No one was going to take that away from me.

"What did I do?"

"You didn't _do_ anything. That's the problem. You never do anything."

So I should be a misbehaving child? What was Charlie thinking? I'd been the most obedient child in the history of non-rebellious children. I ate when I was supposed to, cooked, I slept when told to, mostly. I was a good girl, damn it.

"You want me to get into trouble?"

"Trouble would be better than this . . . this moping around all the time!"

The remark stung. And the pain triggered many words and phrases that, in turn, triggered more. Pain, loneliness, _Edward_, _Twilight_. The book . . . .

I suddenly realized why this all felt familiar. I read this. I read all of this! This is the moment where I stopped knowing how the story would unfold. My story was being acted out. _I_ was acting it out, and so was my dad.

Charlie continued, ignoring my silence. "Wrong word. Moping would be better- that would be doing _something_. You're just . . lifeless, Bella. I think that's the word I want.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I attempted to keep a hold on what was being said and simultaneously remember if this was how _New Moon_ predicted it would go.

"I don't want you to apologize." He was starting to annoy me. He must want _something_. And he was being so vague- what else was I supposed to say?

"Then tell me what you want me to do."

"Bella. Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know.

Wrong. Humans and vampires? I'd only seen it on television with the gruesome corn syrup-blood-drinking imposters and the blonde damsels. This was the real world … where, apparently, vampires existed?

"I know that." It was better not to test my father.

"Listen honey. I think that- that maybe you need some help."

What the hell?

I couldn't stay in a psyche ward. I didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but I was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively truthful. And if I were truthful I would never leave the place. Though I had always wondered what it would be like to be in a strait-jacket ….

"Help?"

"When your mother left and took you. Well, that was a really bad time for me. But I handled it. Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better. I think we both know It's not getting better."

"I'm fine."

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit." Of course he didn't understand _why_ I couldn't go and get professional help, but I was angry, and his insistence wasn't making anything any better.

"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight. If it helps you sleep at night, I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through you try _harder_. I've never seen anyone try so hard. It hurts to watch. I want you to be happy- no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you leave Forks."

Yes. I was definitely upset. I would _not_ let Charlie take this away. "I'm not leaving."

"Why not?"

"I'm in my last semester of school- it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student, you'll figure it out."

"I don't want to crowd Mom and Phil."

"Your mother's been dying to have you back."

"Florida is too hot. I have friends here. I've gotten to used to the rain." I pulled excuse after excuse, hoping that one would stall Charlie.

His fist came back down onto the table. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you. It's been months. No phone calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."

Ah. So he believed that I was waiting for _him_. _Edward._ In reality, I could very well be waiting for him. But in my mind- and it was the only place that mattered to me- I was waiting for the book to show me something truly worthwhile. In a way, I was dependent on _Edward_. I craved to know what happed in Stephanie's creation.

"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything." I said in a low tone. I continued, cutting Charlie off. "I have to go to school. I'll make plans with Jessica."

I ran up to my room, pulled on my shoes and picked up _New Moon, _making my way out of the house.

...

Disclaimer: Twilight sucks. Who would ever want to own such a horrible book? * runs up to person and hits them over the head with a ceramic vase full of ruffled tulips* I would be honored to own Twilight. But the world dislikes me so it mocks me with disclaimers.

Dedication: I learned that Matches + Vengeance = School Up in Flames. Courtesy of Degrassi.

Author's Note: I noticed that most fanfictioneers are online on Saturdays, so I remained on my computer for 3 hours tapping this out! Isn't it sad that this is all I wrote in 3 hours. *Sigh*

Two reviewers guessed that I got the employee's name, Sebastian, from The Little Mermaid. Go them.

No one has discovered the Jacob reference.

Next box of Pocky: Tell me how many times I used the words "_New Moon_" in this chapter. Hint: This includes the one in the Author's Note.

I've got 276 Hits. I got seven reviews. That's 1 review for every 39.428571428 of you guys! Thank you few who reviewed.

Please read and _REVIEW_. ^^ Thank you.


	5. And Action!

**Chapter 5: And . . . Action!**

**...**

**"Theatre actors look down on film actors, who look down on TV actors. Thank God for reality shows or we wouldn't have anybody to look down on"**

– **George Clooney**

**...**

**In my haste to get to school, I ended up arriving in the parking lot fifty minutes before the first bell. Before I could start thinking about the whole **_**thing**_** with Charlie, I pulled out my Calculus book and flipped to the section my class would begin today, trying to decipher it. After only a few seconds of utter confusion, I wondered why I was reading math when I could be reading **_**New Moon**_**. I picked the thick book up, placing it on top of my unwanted Calculus book.**

**I went to one of my permanently bookmarked pages. After turning past a few pages, I found what I was looking for. There he was. And there I was. Our conversation had panned out perfectly.**

**At this I was worried. I read on, just a bit, and was very unsettled. The book had predicted that I would read my Calculus book. And I had, hadn't I?**

**How could this 553-paged book **_**know**_** so much? Ugh, it just put me back on my path of many questions but no answers. Somewhere inside me, buried beneath my layers of confusion and frustration, was hope. **

**If this book was predicting my future correctly- how **_**much**_** it could predict correctly was a good question as well- I would get him back. When I realized this, my worry was mostly displaced. He would stay with me; he would come back. All his talk of not loving me, it had all been a lie. **_**Edward**_**!**

**I was elated by the idea.**

**I continued to skim through my day, to see how it went so that all my lines were correct and that I knew what would happen- I detested surprises.**

**I was so preoccupied with reading that I had to rush to class. I would have to work on my attention. It wouldn't do to be unsuspecting anymore.**

**I burst through Mr. Berry's door, ignoring his glare and sitting down to listen to his lecture on **_**Animal Farm**_**. After barely surviving the romances that made up most of the curriculum, I welcomed the World of Communism. I mentally prepared myself for the rest of the day.**

**"Bella? Are you working tomorrow?"**

_**No. I'm not working tomorrow, Mike**_**, I wished I could say. **_**Never mind that I haven't taken so much as one sick day or that I always come to work on Saturdays**_**. I was a model employee.**

**"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" My voice sounded lifeless. I worked to keep it monotone.**

**"Yep. See you in Spanish." He waved and walked out of the classroom to his next class. I followed him out, dragging my feet across the tiles that made up the path to my Calculus class. I knew how my conversation with Jessica would play out, but I still wasn't looking forward to it.**

**"Hey, Jess."**

**"Are you talking to **_**me**_**, Bella?"**

**"Of course." I faked innocence.**

**"You must need help with your homework or something," she said sourly.**

**"Actually, I wanted to know if you would go to the movies with me. I really need a girls night out."**

**I could tell from the look on her face that she didn't buy it. "So why are you asking **_**me**_**?"**

**"You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." Lie.**

**Angela was the first person I thought of when Charlie started ranting, but she **_**saw**_** too much. Jessica was shallow and easy to manipulate. Plus, I valued my privacy.**

**"I don't know," she replied hesitantly.**

**"Do you have plans?"**

**"No . . . what did you plan on seeing?"**

**I tried not to smile. This had worked perfectly.**

**...**

**Disclaimer:**** Yeah. Don't we all wish.**

**Dedication:**** YouTube's "You Are Bella Intro" The girl is an anti-Twilighter. This is my own peaceful form of rebellion. I love the way the human mind works more than I love Twilight (which is **_**mucho**_**). Go see the video if you have time. Be respectful with your comments, please. Don't prove her right about Twi-hards. **

**Author's Notes:**** Sorry it's so short and I haven't updated in forever. I'll work harder to get on that.**

**Box of Pocky: I lied. How many pages does New Moon **_**really**_** have? Hint: Change of the digits by 1 and you have the correct page number.**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It is entirely unforgivable that this story has been in the making for 3 years and this is all I have to show for it.

Expect a bit of a time skip, I wanted to get the story moving.

. . .

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.

-Victor Frankl

. . .

Talking to Jake wasn't that hard, but it made me very nervous. His demeanor was very friendly and light-hearted. Spending time with him actually made the time spent counting down the days until he, Mike, and I would go out on that date pass quicker.

But at the same time, I felt myself being drawn in, and I didn't like it. I was becoming his _friend_. And I was going to hurt him.

There was no doubt about it. I was going to hurt Jacob Black- I wouldn't blame him if he hated me- but there was nothing I could do about it. If there were any way to avoid hurting Jacob, I would do it. I tried searching New Moon for clues as to where Edward's was; maybe I could find him. But all I got was a discrete comment form Alice to Charlie about South America and an apology from Edward where he said something about tracking Victoria.

At first, I entertained the idea of possibly scouring the entire southern America, but I quickly put it out of my mind. Changing the story was not something I could consider. Who knew what could change if I so much as even varied in my tone?

I might get kidnapped or held at gunpoint. Get my purse stolen by some hooligan. Hell, I might end up running into some other vampire nomad, with my luck.

I shuddered.

Change was not an option. I would have to hurt Jacob. When the days came that I could see Jake change by the hour, his lanky arms growing thicker and his face more mature, I became more and more weary.

My theory was that I knew what was going to happen, so I shouldn't be this averse to going along with it. But the truth is that I had read that extra chapter of _Eclipse_ at the end of _New Moon_, and the fact that my relationship with Jacob had withered down to note passing through my father was devastating. We had regressed to elementary school communication. How sad.

All the while, I acted my way through the days, careful with my words, practically using _New Moon_ as my own bible. I could feel the weight of this situation beginning to press down on my shoulders. I was constantly aware of those around me. I jumped at shadows, nearly always frightened of the threat I knew was coming. Vampires? Werewolves? Books that told me my past, present, and future that came from _nowhere_?

It was becoming a bit nerve-wreaking. Vampires I had accepted easily, and apparently my mental stability is strong enough to allow me to accept the idea of magical books and other realms. But now werewolves are thrown into the picture.

There were even a few times when I wanted to go talk to Charlie- as abhorrent as that idea was- about all of this. Maybe I was in Wonderland. Maybe I was simply crazy. Maybe, just maybe, I really did need hospitalization- some _professional_ help. No other seventeen-year-old girl had to deal with this (at least I hoped not).

Why should I?

But then I thought about it. _Do I really want to get rid of all of this_? _My Edward, my Jacob_? Unless I was imagining this _entire_ word- Renee, Charlie, Forks, Arizona- there was no way this wasn't absolutely true.

And I'm not crazy.

I am not crazy!

Jessica, Angela, Mike- most of Forks's population- all of them avoided the Cullens when they were here. And all of them knew that I had established a relationship with them.

I know for a fact that I wasn't the only one who noticed Jacob's growth spurt. I had heard Charlie and Billy teasing Jacob mercilessly about _finally_ growing up. Jake's growth was mentioned in passing much more than was entirely comfortable.

Speaking of being uncomfortable: Jacob was becoming too cozy in his new skin. And too touchy. And a bit clingy (said the hypocrite). I wouldn't mind if he spoke a little less of his opinions about the women on the Rez.

But these were all quirks I knew came with Jacob. It was an all-or-nothing kind of deal. And in retrospect, the outcome was for the greater good.

_Your greater good,_ the traitorous voice that was my conscience whispered to me. _You know this will hurt Jacob, but you're selfish enough to-_

A harsh ringing pulled me out of my thoughtful state of mind. I slip off my jacket, slamming the door behind me, rushing to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella. I believe we have a _date_."

My heart skipped a beat. The motorcycles. I remember when I sought after the bikes, going to the other side of town, well out of my way. I recall the youngest Marks's face as I practically demanded that he give me the bikes. I remember how excited and frightened I was.

After a pause, I belted out my lines and rushed right back past Charlie to my truck, letting him know where I'd be. While I pushed my truck to its internal speed limit, I skimmed the pages of _New Moon_, hoping that my bike fall wouldn't hurt too much (Is this how Alice feels all the time?).

On the drive we passed Sam Uley and his group.

I had mixed feelings about Sam Uley. On one hand, he would help Jacob through his "phasing". But he was a werewolf. A vampire's semi-mortal enemy.

I am not discriminatory, let it be known. But although he was supposedly helping Jake, he still had a bit of a dominant personality and used his power generously, which I don't think Jacob appreciated very much.

Jacob shared his concerns and I consoled him. He was awfully huge, and I felt incredibly awkward when his voice got huskier whilst we hugged. I pulled away. Jacob spoke and I recited my lines. He almost said Edward's name. I pretended that he upset me and got ready for our ride.

. . .

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything, including anything remotely similar or related to the Twilight Saga.

Dedication: Eh, my guilt finally caught up with me. Woohoo.

A/N: No on has my Jacob allusion. I've decided that it was too easy for y'all. It was so obvious that you overlooked it. I'll let you in on the secret: Bella was sitting Indian-style on her bed.

Haha, losers. Pocky is deliciousness. It's a long, thin biscut (kinda) that is traditionally covered chocolate sauce. It's a Japanese candy.

Next box of Pocky: what high school class was the youngest Marks in?


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